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For a moment the four Radio Boys stood as though paralyzed in the shadow of an impending tragedy.

Bob Layton was the first to spring into action.

“Come along, fellows!” he shouted. “Hurry! We’ve got to get those people out! It may be a matter of life or death!”

In an instant the boys were running like deer to the scene of the accident.

They reached the shattered fence and peered over into the gully. The sides were steep, and the car had fallen a distance of thirty feet. It had rolled over and over, and now lay upside down amid a welter of broken glass and splintered wood and twisted steel. The engine was still going, and from the wreck arose groans and shouts that testified that the occupants of the doomed machine were still alive.

Sliding, scrambling, and often falling, the boys got down somehow into the ravine and rushed to the car.

Bob, who reached it first, with the others close on his heels, peered into one of the windows, and in the dim light made out what seemed to be four men thrown together in a heap. Two of them seemed to be stunned and made no movement, but the others were struggling desperately to extricate themselves from the tangled mass of bodies.

The car was an enclosed one, and the small windows had jagged splinters of glass sticking in the frames.

“We’re here to help you,” Bob shouted to the men inside. “Here, fellows,” he cried to his companions, “give me a hand with this door.”

They tugged at the door with all their might, but it had become so jammed that it resisted all their efforts. Again and again they pulled until it seemed as though their arms would be drawn out of their sockets, but in vain.

“Let’s try the one on the other side,” cried Bob, suiting the action to the word.

But here again the twisted framework refused to budge.

“No use!” exclaimed Bob, when convinced that their efforts were fruitless. “We’ll have to get something to smash in the door.”

The boys looked around them, and Bob’s eyes lighted on a heavy joist that had been left there by some workmen on the railroad near by.

“The very thing!” cried Bob, picking up one end. “Here, Joe, grab it up near the other end and we’ll use it as a battering ram.”

Joe was stooping to comply when a horrified cry came from Jimmy.

“Fire!” he shouted. “The automobile’s on fire!”

Joe and Bob followed the direction of Jimmy’s pointing finger, and their hearts seemed to stand still as they saw a line of fire leaping along the car from the broken gasoline tank.

And while they stood gazing at the awful menace, it may be well, for the benefit of those who have not read the preceding volumes of this series, to tell who the boys are and trace their adventure up to the time this story opens.

All the boys were residents of the town of Clintonia, a prosperous, wide-awake community, pleasantly located on the banks of the Shagary River, about a hundred miles away from New York City. Bob, who was about sixteen years old, was the son of the leading druggist of Clintonia, a man much respected by his fellow citizens and a foremost figure in civic activities. Bob was a general favorite because of his frank and sunny nature and his straightforward character. The elder people liked him, and among the younger element he was the natural leader, ever to the front in baseball, football and other youthful sports. He was tall for his age, of dark complexion and with eyes that always looked straight at one without fear or favor. His courage had been tested too often to admit any doubt of its quality. He was cool and resourceful, and never avoided trouble, though he did not go out of his way to find it.

His closest chum and companion was Joe Atwood, fair-complexioned and blue-eyed, who, though he resembled Bob in being manly and likable, had a hot temper that often got him into trouble and would have done so oftener had it not been for the cooler disposition and counsel of Bob. Joe’s father was a prosperous physician of the town. The two boys were inseparable.

They were not exclusive, however, and had as congenial companions two slightly younger boys, Herb Fennington and Jimmy Plummer. Herb’s father kept the largest general store in town. Herb could scarcely be described as a chip off the old block, for while his father was industrious, Herb dearly loved his ease, and would have passed work by without a greeting if he had met it on the street.

Jimmy’s father was a carpenter and contractor, and he must have fed Jimmy well, for the latter was fat and chunky and notorious for his appetite, especially for doughnuts, of which his mother made most excellent specimens. Jimmy appreciated them so well and so often that he had gained the nickname of “Doughnuts,” the fitness of which was recognized by all who knew him.

While the four friends would have been congenial mates under any circumstances, they were drawn still more closely together by their joint interest in radio. They had been strongly attracted towards that marvelous science when its wonders first burst upon the world, and with every succeeding development of its magic qualities their interest had deepened and strengthened. They soon got to a point where it absorbed most of the time they could spare from their school studies and their sleep, and this became so apparent that they had been given the name of the “Radio Boys,” by which they were frequently referred to.

It is an honor sometimes to have enemies, and the Radio Boys were not without that honor. The tougher element of the youth of Clintonia had as their leader a fellow named Buck Looker, who, though his father was one of the richest men in the town, chose to associate with low companions. Two of them especially, Carl Lutz and Terence Mooney, were often with him and helped him carry out the tricks that Looker planned. The trio were united in a common hatred of the Radio Boys, upon whom they had tried to put over many scurvy schemes. The fact that these had been circumvented as a rule made them all the more bitter in their enmity.

One of the most valued friends of the Radio Boys was Doctor Amory Dale, the pastor of the Old First Church of Clintonia. The doctor had been a star athlete in his college days and still retained the youthful spirit and outlook that kept him in close sympathy with the boys. He was also deeply versed in the mystery of radio, and had been of great assistance to the Radio Boys in giving them pointers on the new science. Again and again they had brought their problems to him, and he had helped them solve them.

The Radio Boys won prizes in a competition for the best home-made radio sets; they were instrumental in tracking down by means of radio a rascal who had defrauded an orphan girl, and this involved them in a host of thrilling adventures. How this all came about is told in the first book of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys’ First Wireless; or, Winning the Ferberton Prize.”

In other volumes are described their further exciting experiences in the realm of radio. At the seaside, where they had carried their radio sets, they learned a lot about the communication between the shore and ships, and in a terrible storm were able by a message to save the vessel on which their own people were voyaging. They also were instrumental in rescuing people who had been run down by a stolen motorboat and in balking another scheme of Buck Looker’s. A little while later, they had the fascinating experience of being placed on a sending program and broadcasting their work to hundreds of thousands of hearers. Turning from the sea to the woods, they were able to overhear and expose a scoundrelly plot of financial sharpers and to secure the return to jail of desperate escaped convicts.

In the volume immediately preceding the present one, the boys gained some insight into the methods of the Forestry Service of the United States Government and served for a while with the hardy men who have saved from the flames uncounted acres of the national domain. They themselves were trapped in a terrible forest fire, and the adroitness and presence of mind with which they saved themselves from what looked like certain death are narrated in the book entitled: “The Radio Boys with the Forest Rangers; or, The Great Fire on Spruce Mountain.”

Now to return to the boys as they stood by the wrecked automobile, appalled by the stream of fire that was running from the broken gasoline tank and threatening the lives of the injured occupants.

“Quick!” cried Bob, conquering his consternation. “Jimmy, you and Herb gather all the dirt you can and throw it on the fire. Joe, lend a hand with this joist and smash in the door.”

Herb and Jimmy set to work frantically. They had no implements, and were forced to use their hands, which were soon scratched and bleeding, though in their excitement they took no note of that.

As Bob and Joe hurried with the joist to the door, a deep voice that had in it the habit of command came from the car.

“Give me a hand and help me get this man through the window.”

The two boys dropped the joist and caught hold of the head and shoulders of a limp body. They pulled it through the window, though much impeded by the jagged glass.

“Hurry, fellows!” came in a wild shout from Jimmy. “This fire is getting beyond us.”

Spurred on by the shout and their own desperation, Bob and Joe dragged the unconscious man to the side of the road.

“Give us the next one!” shouted Joe.

“There isn’t time for that,” came the deep voice. “The body of the car is on fire, and it’s already scorching our clothes. Smash in the door.”

Bob and Joe lifted the piece of joist and hurled it against the door. There was a splintering crash, and one of the hinges gave way.

“Once more,” came the calm voice from within.

Summoning all their strength, the two boys again drove their weapon against the door, and this time it fell in with a crash. Herb and Jimmy came to the assistance of Bob and Joe, and they seized the remnants of the door and drew them out, leaving a clear passage.

“Good work!” commended the still steady voice. “Get hold of the man nearest you.”

They took hold of one of the men, who, though dazed, was able partly to help himself, and dragged him out. Then a third man staggered out, assisted by the eager hands of the boys. Following him, the last occupant emerged.

At a glance, the boys knew that he was the owner of the voice.